


Two Crates of Vastless Sand and Cut Topaz

by Califlower101



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Humor, M/M, Other, Prince Skeppy, Prince/Servant AU, Servant Badboyhalo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 08:27:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30052683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Califlower101/pseuds/Califlower101
Summary: There are seven major provinces all fated to crumble into ruin by a prophesy spoken by ancient sages of the old world. Their lands falling victim to disaster, hardship, and disease. That was unless one of the seven consumed its brethren and led under a single nation. Torn apart by a prophesy slowly coming to fruition and fear of loosing power, the seven nations partake in perpetual warfare with no end in sight. However, two boys of different backgrounds and classes, burdened with the world's problems, are the only ones with the power to bring about an end to this eternal struggle. Can they overcome their differences to save the world?
Relationships: Skeppy/ Badboyhalo, Zak Ahmed/Darryl Noveschosch
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	Two Crates of Vastless Sand and Cut Topaz

**Author's Note:**

> I have always really, really enjoyed the prince and servant au when it pertains to Skeppy and Badboyhalo, so I decided to give it a shot. I hope you enjoy. Be sure to let me know what you think.

Destiny; inescapable, inevitable, and all consuming. 

He wore nothing of color outside his vibrant red scarf. The dull blue tunic worn thin peaked out from under his stiff, brown leather jacket. A belt of the same material held his equally plain and muddy pants up around his lean waist and down towards his soft leather boots which were shackled together with a mix of different buckles and straps. His person was, well to be rather blunt, boring. His features weren’t overly dramatic, nor were they unattractive, but special was by far the furthest and flawed comparison he could make. 

The mopped brunette hair was unbrushed and unkept. Structure wise, he wasn’t anything to swoon over without much of a sharp jawline or cheekbones to establish a remarkable entrance, but he seemed to keep fit and was defined enough along his shoulders and everything below. Most would look over any appearances and positives he possessed when faced with his dusty form, and Skeppy was just the same in that remark.

The boy was by far his least interesting servant by far, and he paid him no mention or thought until this moment. Keeping to his antics and allowing the boy to just do his job was how he’d always operated. He’d had dozens of servants in the past; this one was no different. Skeppy had never even bothered to learn of the boy’s name before. He was just a single blade of unassuming grass in a field.

However, unremarkable was by far the most inaccurate statement he could’ve ever made. But he’d made the judgement far in advance. He’d already created his own backstory for which the boy would have to work around, and it was one of extreme commonplace and bland expressions. The dry landscape of which Skeppy had crafted for the boy when he first laid eyes on the peasant was a tale of generic hopelessness. 

He would have come from a poor peasant farm on the outskirts of the kingdom. His old, sickening mother scrambling to make ends meet after screwing herself over by marrying a bastard man of no money or importance. With his mother weakening and in need of help and medicine, his son took it upon himself to “nobly” travel into the inner city in search of a job and money. He’d lucked into the position of the prince’s servant, of which he was one of forty outer members. He’d not even made it into the inner party of servitude where he’d have the slight possibility of having the grace and honor of serving the prince directly. No, he would only see the prince once in a blue moon when he was dressed in scarlet and bathed in golden sunshine while addressing the public, same as everyone else.

Well… that’s what Skeppy assumed was the life story of this boy. Accuracy was a whole other matter entirely, of which he had no interest in. No, Skeppy didn’t care for him in the slightest. He didn’t even know the boy he’d just spent a generous amount of time analyzing and judging from the other side of his chamber’s window. 

He seemed to be delivering supplies of sorts to other aristocrats living throughout the castle, but really Skeppy was only looking down at him out of boredom and was sure to forget of his existence entirely soon after his daily target practice which was to take place as soon as his partner summoned him. 

He needn’t wait long either because just as soon as the thought entered his head a rather forceful knock fought through his reverie and on his heavy, wooden door. 

“Enter,” was Skeppy’s simple reply. 

“You’re Excellence, the Lord Blade has requested your attendance.”

The Paysan stood to attention, while Skeppy lazily looked over his shoulder at the young man. He gave a slight nod of acknowledgement before standing and making his way over to the changing partition. The servant boy quickly took his leave and in his stead two women draped in silks and ribbons redressed him into a chainmail tunic over which laid a fabric of royal caliber and color, deep in its blueness. 

He left his chambers, joined with two silent guards dressed in heavy armor and accompanied by two oversized shields. His shiny leather boots let everyone in the near proximity know that someone of importance was passing through these decorated halls in echoes that followed his footsteps. Banners swam down the tall walls and spirling towers of luminous glass lined his impressive ceilings. He’d grown up in this luxury, so it often didn't cross his mind his immense wealth. He wasn’t oblivious to it however. He knew he was privileged, he just didn’t care to ponder what that meant for others.  
Skeppy emerged from an arching tunnel and into an open courtyard, one of many. A large wooden target had already been assembled along one side of the arena padded with grass and fenced with red brick. He takes a step towards the individual examining a table filled with long range weapons of a wide variety. 

Without missing a beat, Skeppy reached for his favorite axe and threw it in a linked concession. The motion was smooth and fluid. Even the axe's deadly landing was graceful as it let out a deafening crack against the wood. 

He heard a light whistle at his side, “Impressive. It seems My Highness has been practicing.”

Skeppy let a smirk overtake his features before turning to the man at his side. That man was known as the Lord Technoblade, finest and most formidable fighter throughout the Cerulean Empire. He was decked in attire similar to his own, except his tunic was a deep and violent shade of pink branded with his family seal. His blonde hair was styled long and in a loose tie low on his head, and he stood just two inches taller than his own figure. 

“It’s only thanks to your continuous and dedicated torturing. I may someday become an even better fighter than yourself.”

“I don’t doubt it. Now, let us begin.”

And with a sly smile, Skeppy and Technoblade commenced with a light spar.

“May the best man win.”


End file.
